


The Most Magical Place on Earth

by Ryah_Ignis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Mini-Bang Challenge 2016, Disney World!, Fluff, M/M, Shipper Sam, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryah_Ignis/pseuds/Ryah_Ignis
Summary: The Darkness and God have reunited, Metatron is dead and Crowley is too busy trying to figure out how to restructure Hell to be a bother.  Team Free Will goes to Disney World.  What could possibly go wrong?
Cas is on the lookout for witchy activity because he doesn’t trust that ‘the most magical place on Earth’ isn’t supposed to be taken literally.
Dean is debating whether or not grabbing Cas’s hand on the plane can be counted as ‘bros being bros’
Sam is busy texting Eileen and hoping all this UST won’t kill them all before this trip is over.





	1. Takeoffs

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thank yous to my lovely beta, lennyways on tumblr, for being my first reader and cheerleader :)
> 
> [ Art](http://ismylifejustfantasy.tumblr.com/post/152850759792/deancasbigbang-2016the-most-magical-place-on-earth) by ismylifejustfantasy on tumblr!

If there was one thing Cas had learned to appreciate about humanity, it was sleeping late in the mornings.  Sam preferred to wake up early, so he was usually the first to head to bed.  Cas and Dean would watch another episode of whatever Spanish soap had sucked them in most recently, read in the room Dean had converted into a living room at the end of everything, or, one memorable time, bake cookies at a ridiculous hour, clattering pots and pans around the kitchen and shushing each other in increasingly loud whispers.

After a while, though, even Dean went to bed, leaving Cas alone with his thoughts.  As much as he enjoyed the Winchesters’ company, they were always so _noisy,_ always doing something or other that required talking or movement.

He liked the mornings in his room for the quiet, too.  After several unsuccessful wakeup calls that had ended in a stubbed toe (Sam) and a bruised forehead (Dean), they’d learned to leave him alone until at least eight.

The so-called motivational alarm clock that Dean had presented to him as a joke read 7:30, so Cas rolled back over, scrubbing a hand over his face.  He’d made it through half of _The Hobbit_ at Dean’s insistence the night before, so some extra sleep time seemed to be in order.

“I am _not_ flying!”

Ever since the world had not-ended, Sam and Dean had been having medium sized spats practically every other week.  Cas figured that, without the fate of the world hanging in the balance, they had to blow off steam somehow.

“And _I’m_ not driving all the way to Florida.  Haven’t you had enough driving for a lifetime?”

At the scandalized gasp that followed, Cas dragged himself out of bed, just in case things got heated.  He shoved his feet into slippers, tugged on his best it’s-morning-don’t-talk-to-me scowl, and wandered towards the kitchen.

The scene that unfolded in front of him wouldn’t have been out of place during the apocalypse—Sam with his palms flat on the table, aggressive, and Dean turned away, hands thrown in the air.

And Dean had the audacity to say _he_ was dramatic when the coffee machine broke.

“Morning,” Cas grunted, shuffling in the crossfire, unwilling to allow anything between him and his morning caffeine.  “What’s this about flying?”

Both brothers jolted into motion at the same time.  Cas wasn’t sure if it was pure dumb luck or the vestiges of grace that got him out of the way in time to save his poor coffee.  Sam slammed his hand down on an envelope sitting on the table and Dean practically fell over in his attempt to cover a piece of paper.

Cas took a sip of his coffee and raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t ask.

The week didn’t get any less weird after that.  Cas supposed that the brothers were breaking their hunting hiatus at last.  Sam dragged a few old-fashioned suitcases out of the bunker’s storage and started packing and repacking, searching for the best way to stow his things.  Dean burst through the door one afternoon with no less than six bottles of sunscreen.  Cas viewed the whole situation with a vaguely hollow feeling.  The Winchesters had promised to stop hunting until Cas was at home in his new human body and well enough to accompany them.  Apparently not.

“So, is this hunt of yours on the sun?”

Dean looked up from the trunk Sam had repacked less than an hour ago.  Several of the cans of sunscreen that he’d been trying to stuff in the side clattered as they hit the ground and rolled away.

“What?  Hunt?”

It took a few moments for the confusion to clear.

“Oh—Cas, no, this isn’t a hunt.”

Something loosened the knot in his stomach.  They weren’t going to be in danger.  They were going to be safe.  Happy.  Presumably somewhere with lots of sun.

“Well, have fun.”

* * *

“Have…what?”

It was a few moments before Dean realized that half of his contribution to the conversation had been repeating what Cas had said with a question mark at the end.

So _that_ was why Cas had been acting like a petulant cat about it—sulking around the suitcases, shooting glares at the sunscreen.  Dean had half expected him to curl up in one of the half empty cases they hadn’t gotten around to packing yet.

“Cas, you’re coming, too.  It’s not like Sammy and I would just leave you here.”

Honestly though, with the last few years in the rearview, it wasn’t that out of character.  He’d kicked Cas out of the bunker less than five years ago; less than two Cas had said yes to Lucifer because he’d thought of himself as a hammer.

“You’re family.”

He’d repeated that sentence what felt like hundreds of times over the last few months, anything to make it a reality in Cas’s mind.

The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes softened. “Why so much sunscreen?  I didn’t think you and Sam burned easily.”

In the sun, maybe, but Dean’s ears felt a little like he’d stuck them in the stove. “I—uh—wasn’t sure if you needed it.  You know, you don’t seem fair, but you never know…”

His voice trailed off.  It felt weird to want to protect Cas from the mild discomfort of a sunburn, but he’d put him through enough already.  It was the least he could do.  Dean looked over, ready to see him rolling his eyes.  Instead, Cas ducked his head, a small smile on his face.

Something in Dean melted.  He’d brought up the idea of a vacation with Sam with the intention of seeing that smile.

“We were going to surprise you, but I’m glad you asked.  I wasn’t sure what you wanted to bring.”

Grabbing one of the empty suitcases, Dean led Cas to his room.  Other than his own (and maybe the living room), it was Dean’s favorite in the bunker.  He’d helped Cas pick out a bedspread and pillows and taught him how to make his bed.  He’d been the one to pick the paint color, to suggest the natural light simulating light bulbs because Cas had felt boxed in by the florescent.  He’d done everything he should have done the first time Cas had stumbled into the bunker cold, lost, afraid and human.

“Florida’s kinda muggy, so I’m thinking shorts.  But there might be a rain, so maybe a jacket, too.  You have one of those, right?  Oh, and lots of t-shirts because you can throw a sweatshirt on top if it gets—”

“Dean, I’ve been to Florida.”

Dean felt his face fall, but then that small smile he’d seen so rarely on the angelic Cas was back.

“But only briefly.”

In the end, Cas let him help pack.  Dean noticed a few of his t-shirts in Cas’s drawers, but he didn’t comment.  Cas insisted on taking the fanny packet Dean had tried to dissuade him from buying in the first place.

“There we go,” he said at last, grinning despite the fact that it had taken Cas sitting on top and Dean tugging the zipper to get it closed. “Sam wants to get an early start tomorrow—don’t give me that look—so I’ll come drag you out of bed if you’re not up, got it?”

Cas grumbled something noncommittal, but Dean thought he saw the beginnings of a smile.  Maybe this vacation had been the best idea he’d ever had.

* * *

_I can’t deal with this anymore._ Sam’s fingers hovered over the screen as he debated what to type next.  _Seriously.  They’re going to drive me insane._

Ever since the end, Sam had been waiting for them to get on with it.  He’d figured (maybe naively) that they’d be able to get over themselves now that there was nothing standing in their way anymore.

The little grey bubbles in the corner of the screen receded again, then reappeared.  Clearly, she was thinking it over, like she did most things, part of what Sam liked about her.  Most of the people in his life now (and in the past) liked snap decisions, doing what felt right in the moment.  Not Eileen.

_going through with the vacation?_

Personally, Sam would have elected to stay in the bunker and send them both on their way to figure things out, but Dean had insisted on a family vacation, like he knew what _that_ was.

_I may not make it back alive._

A chime of his phone.  _stop being dramatic_

Sam managed to shut down the slightly goofy look on his face before Dean walked back into the kitchen with his fully packed bags behind him.

“I think you forgot something?”

Dean pointedly didn’t look at him. “He asked for five more minutes.”

Sam closed his eyes and considered crashing on Eileen’s couch for the week rather than spend it with the most oblivious, emotionally constipated idiots he’d ever met in his life.

“You’re a sap,” he said instead.

He pushed past Dean and into the hallway.  Sam had never really wanted kids—something about passing on the bad luck stitched into his DNA—but he was getting the full experience with Cas, from trying to convince him to finish the vegetables on his plate to waking him up when he refused to get out of bed.

“All right, enough.”

He flicked the lights a few times.  Cas, who Sam knew for a fact had literally been tortured a few times, flinched like Sam had thrown something at him and burrowed beneath the blankets gain.

“Cas.  We’re gonna miss our flight and Dean’s going to insist on driving.  So unless you want three days straight of the same six cassettes over and over again…”

He let the threat hang for a few moments before Cas dragged himself out from under the sheets.  Sam had made sure to introduce him to as many types of music as possible, knowing that his brother would do his best to get his claws into him.  It turned out that Cas liked pretty much anything as long as there was variation, something Dean and the ten songs he would actually listen to didn’t provide.

Sam stifled a smirk at the sight of one of Dean’s t-shirts sticking to Cas’s front.  Sam had been the one to do laundry last, and he was pretty sure he’d sorted everything correctly.

They were about to head for the kitchen when the door swung open.

“All right, I think we’re out of the creamer you like, so I added some extra sugar—which reminds me, we need to get you on me and Sammy’s fake dental pl—oh, hey, you got him up!”

Good _God_ Dean was a Chatty Cathy around Cas.  Sam ducked out of the room before he had to witness them making eyes at each other over a stupid cup of coffee.

Out of self-preservation, Sam elected to sit in the back seat of the Impala with the luggage they hadn’t managed to cram into the trunk.  Dean tended to glance Cas’s way every few seconds no matter where he was in the car, like some angsty teen and Sam would prefer not to wreck before they even got to the airport.

They made it to the airport with enough time to make the flight, but not enough time to buy Dean an Egg McMuffin and hopefully shut him up for the first few minutes of it.

“We used fake credit cards,” Sam groused as he shuffled into economy seating. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have sprung for first class.”

With all three of them crammed into one tiny row, it was going to be a miracle if they managed to get out again.

Cas immediately opened the little shade and glanced out on the tarmac.  Dean closed his eyes and leaned back, gripping his armrests.

“Excuse me, economy passengers.  We’ve had an opening in first class, so if you’re interested—”

Sam nearly knocked the flight attendant over in his rush to get up.

* * *

The one good thing about Sam getting shuttled up to the first class was that he couldn’t make fun of him during takeoff.  Dean chewed absently on the inside of his cheek.

Cas pointed out the window at the people loading the luggage. “Where’s it going?”

Dean had a sneaking suspicion that Cas knew exactly what was going on, but wanted to distract him.

“They’re gonna put it underneath the plane and get it out before we do, so we can grab it on the way out.”

Cas nodded like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard, like he always did when Dean explained something totally mundane.

“Why do they have sticks?”

Now he was definitely trying to distract him.  The corners of Dean’s mouth quirked.  Cas had seen enough Netflix in the bunker to know that.

“They’re making sure the plane goes the right way.”

Cas craned his neck as the plane started to rumble.

“We’re moving.”

“Thanks for the observation there, Sherlock.”

Now _that_ reference he knew Cas would get.  They’d watched one of the old movies just a few weeks ago.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you afraid of flying?”

Dean shrugged.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t faced worse.  It would make so much more sense if he was afraid of fire or something.

“That was the first thing you ever said to me,” Cas commented, tracing the outline of something on the fogged-up window.

Dean was pretty sure he remembered their first conversation and he was also pretty sure it hadn’t gone even a little bit like that.

“I’d gotten you out of the first few circles of Hell,” Cas said, still looking out the window.  “You’d fought me for a while, but I suppose you’d given up by then.  When you finally opened your mouth, I expected a thank you at the very least.  But instead, you told me you were afraid of flying.  And then swore quite excessively.”

Dean remembered exactly nothing of his ascent from Hell.  He still didn’t know if it was his own tiny human brain that couldn’t process everything, the demons making sure he hadn’t even a single scrap of good memory from his forty years under, or the angels preventing him from ‘bonding’ or whatever with Cas.

“Oh, Sorry about that.”

Cas smiled. “I actually found it amusing.”

When the plane jerked into the air, Dean snatched blindly for his hand.

 

 

 


	2. Never in a Million Years

There had to be a platonic way to grab someone’s hand on a plane.  Just bros being bros.  Pals.  Dudes being dudes.  Obviously.

Cas didn’t let go until the worst of the turbulence had settled somewhere over Mississippi.  By then, Dean was a sweaty nervous wreck with probably disgusting, sticky palms.  He dashed off to the bathroom as quickly as he could, even though the little room didn’t really do anything to calm him down.

Forget being a bad friend.  He was a bad _person_ if he took advantage of Cas like that.  The guy didn’t know _anything_ about the world, about being human.  Getting involved with him when he was one of the two true friends that Cas had ever had was just low.

Plus, it wasn’t like he’d had much luck in the past.  He’d end up having to leave Cas behind to protect him from the next round of crap that came their way, or wipe his memory, or break his heart.

Dean loitered in the bathroom as long as he feasibly could before he had to wander back to his seat.  Cas, who had been reading the emergency instruction pamphlet, placed it carefully back in its flap.

“Feeling better?”

Dean nodded tersely.  There still was the possibility of falling out of the sky, but he did admittedly feel better.

“Have you ever played War?” he asked, taking the deck of cards out of his carry-on.

Judging by the furrowing of Cas’s forehead, he hadn’t.  Dean smiled and started dealing.

* * *

Now that he had enough room to actually stretch his legs a little, Sam was actually enjoying the flight.  He’d brought the ASL book he’d bought.  It was a little harder to learn out of the book than the online course he’d been using, but it was a way to pass the time.

The woman beside him seemed pretty interested in the book, but Sam was willing to bet that wasn’t all she was interested in.  He pulled a pair of headphones on and settled into a playlist that probably would have made Dean roll his eyes.

By the time the plane landed, Sam had worked his way through _Chapter Four: Restaurants and Food._   Maybe once they got back, he’d take Eileen to one of those sign cafes he’d read about online and show off a little.

“Good flight?”

Carry-on slung over his back, Cas plowed through the crowd, Dean following in his wake.

“It was nice seeing the clouds up close again,” Cas said.

Both Winchesters froze.  As a general rule, they avoided talking about Cas’s fall.  Rather than upset, though, he just seemed lost in thought.

“Well, Cas, that’s good,” Dean said at last.

They exchanged that gooey look again. 

Sam coughed, trying to remind them of his presence, but they didn’t so much as blink. “Right.  I’ll go get the rental car if you two get the luggage.”

Before anyone could argue with him, Sam took off.  He pulled out his phone as soon as he got to the painfully long rental line and switched it off of airplane mode.

_Well, I managed to leave them alone on the plane.  Step one of Save Sam via Disney is complete._

_i can’t believe you named it,_ Eileen replied. _i feel like i’m in middle school._

Sam could picture the eye roll perfectly, but if he was going to be stuck watching this mess, he was going to make someone else suffer with him.

* * *

For a being that had literally watched Creation, Cas seemed pretty interested in the luggage carousel.  He watched it go around a few times before he even considered getting their luggage.  Dean let him.  The guy had him wrapped around his finger, and Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“I see why Sam wanted to label the luggage now.”

Dean stifled a laugh. “Cas, I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones with suitcases from the fifties.”

Sure enough, their stuff was pretty easy to spot.  Cas hefted all three off the carousel in quick succession as if they weighed nothing.  The woman talking on the phone eyeing him from across the carousel seemed to think the same thing.  Dean stepped in her line of sight.

“C’mon.  I don’t want Sam to get the rental.  He’ll pick something prissy.”

Dean still had nightmares about the iPhone jack he’d tried to install in the Impala.

“You didn’t mind prissy when we watched _Love Actually_ ,” Cas pointed out.

Dean considered that for a moment. “That wasn’t a car.  I _do_ have standards, you know.”

By the time they got to Sam, he’d already picked out a car—or, more accurately, a minivan.  Cas, of course, because the universe hated him, loved it.

Dean was surrounded by complete heathens.

Despite the fact that it hadn’t exactly been their money to pay for the trip, Dean had still chosen to stay off property.  He just wasn’t sure he could stand running into Mickey Mouse at the breakfast table.  He’d let Sammy plan the trip, but when he watched their hotel flash by the window, he had to speak up.

“Uh, Sam?  Forget something?”

Sam didn’t even say a word as he fished in his pocket for a piece of paper that he shoved into Dean’s hand.  Cas peered over his shoulder at the itinerary.  In spreadsheet format.  God.

“Animal Kingdom?  Today?  I thought we were skipping that one?”

“I wanted to spot the tree woman,” Cas said.

It had only been approximately an hour and a half since landing, and Dean was already regretting the guidebook he’d bought for Cas.

“Right.  Okay.” He glanced down at the itinerary again, but the times started to blur. “Uh, Sammy?  Did you remember to schedule bathroom breaks in here, or are we just gonna need to hold it?”

Sam growled something indistinguishable under his breath and snatched the itinerary back.

Getting into the park took much less time than Dean had anticipated.  Before he knew it, they’d been shuttled inside, staring up at the gigantic (fake) tree that dominated the park.

“The real one is much more impressive.”

“Wait, I thought that was a myth,” Dean began, but Sam had already started loping off towards their next destination.

Shrugging at Cas, he took off after him.  The day progressed with Dean enjoying himself far more than he’d thought he would.  He drew most of that enjoyment from watching Cas.  Everything seemed to amaze him—the crowds of people streaming by, the bright colors of all the attractions, the animals on the various rides (though he did worry about their safety until Sam assured him that everything was up to code).  Dean knew it wasn’t some kind of misplaced naivety.  Cas was ancient, grace or no grace, and you could see it reflected in his eyes, in the way he moved.  He had seen the world before, a thousand times over, but never from this perspective.

Dean had just been lucky enough to witness those firsts.

“Next stop, Everest.”

Dean hadn’t done any research himself, but he wasn’t stupid.  Mount Everest meant _tall,_ and tall meant _absolutely not for Dean Winchester._

“Aw, come on,” Sam said after taking one look at his face. “It’s Cas’s first roller coaster.”

“Do you remember _your_ first roller coaster?” Dean grumbled.

He’d thrown up in the garbage can outside the ride afterwards with Sam laughing his head off.  He didn’t argue, though.  Just like he couldn’t miss a man’s first homemade burger, he couldn’t miss his first roller coaster.

After about half an hour of waiting in line, Dean had decided that he absolutely _could_ miss Cas’s first roller coaster if meant keeping at least some of his pride intact.  By the time he’d reached that conclusion, though, Sam had already forced him into a tiny cart that didn’t look like it could survive a stiff breeze, much less any kind of speed.

“Your seat belt,” Cas said, motioning at it.

And, because there was still a part of personal space that he hadn’t quite mastered, Cas reached across his lap and belted him in.

“Uh, Cas, I’m not too sure—”

The ride jolted into motion.  Dean placed his feet against the inside of the cart and pushed.  There.  That way if the flimsy seat belt snapped he’d work like a brace.

“Real yetis look nothing like that,” Cas commented lightly, looking at the sketch on the wall.

He was trying to distract him again. Dean had to appreciate that.

“That thing looks like it came out of Rudolph.”

Before they could debate whether or not it looked like a Wendigo, they reached the top of the hill.  Dean let out an undignified yelp and grabbed for Cas’s hand before they even started moving.  He screamed at the top of his lungs the entire way down.

“Is it over?”

He pried open first one eye, then the other.  Cas had the hand not trapped in Dean’s vice grip in the air.

“Are you crazy?” Dean forced him to grab the safety bar. “You’re going to fall out!”

Cas looked rather pointedly at all the other people on the train with their hands in the air, but Dean was too concerned by the fact that it had lurched as it started grinding up another hill to care.

“Why are people going to a place where they know there’s a dangerous yeti, anyway?  It’s just stupid.”

“Remind me how long you’ve been a hunter?”

Right.  If there actually was a yeti on top of Mount Everest (which Dean doubted), people were stupid enough to line up to see it.

The train screeched to a halt.  Dean let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  Thank God.

Wait.

“Cas.  Where did the track go?”

Up ahead, it looked as if a yeti truly had ripped the tracks up.  A few people in the front of the train began to cheer.  Cas twisted around in his seat.

“The yeti is supposed to distract us, but I believe we’re switching tracks.”

Just as he finished pointing that out, the train hurtled backwards.  If Dean had thought going forward was bad, this was a million times worse.  He didn’t realize that the train had stopped until Cas patted his knee with his free hand.

“Dean, you’re cutting off my circulation.”

He released Cas’s hand, but judging by Sam’s knowing smile, he hadn’t done it fast enough.

Damn it.

* * *

As much of this trip as Sam had planned down to the tiniest detail, he could have never in a million years planned it quite like this.

“Let me see the receipt,” Dean snapped.

Sam scrolled through his email—overdue book notice, invitation from the University of Ithaca to sign up for their newsletter, ASL promotional package—until he found it.  Dean ground his teeth.

“Come on, Dean, it’s late.  We can deal with this in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Cas yawned that Dean finally yielded.

“Fine.  But their TripAdvisor score is going down the toilet.”

Determined not to make two trips, they lugged all of their bags inside in one go.  Sam chose the bed nearest the door to set his stuff down. 

Two twin beds.  Maybe Chuck was having mercy on him after all.

“All right, how are we doing this?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “We could share.  Not like we haven’t before.”

“Dude, you were twelve and had a fever.  Besides, you take up way more than your half.”

“Okay, fine.  Cas?”

Cas dumped his stuff on Sam’s bed and shuffled off to the bathroom, completely unconcerned by the proceedings.  Dean lasted approximately twenty-two and a half awkward seconds of indecision before he pulled Cas’s bag off Sam’s bed and on to his own.

“What?  We’re both smaller, and you’re a yeti.  I’m just being practical.”

Amused, Sam unlocked his phone while Dean started to quietly panic.

_I don’t know how it happened, but we wound up with two beds, not two and a cot._

Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight, he wasn’t surprised to see Eileen respond.  She always stayed up late—something about working better at night.

_i feel like i’m watching one of those daytime soaps._

Before Sam could text back, Cas emerged from the bathroom, tucking his toothbrush back in its case, still grimacing at the flavor.  They’d tried every kind of mint under the sun and cinnamon, too, but so far he hadn’t been able to stand any of them.

If Cas was at all surprised to see his things moved, he either didn’t care enough or was too tired to show it.  Instead, he placed his bag on the floor and crawled into bed, still wearing his socks.  (“Weirdo,” Dean had said affectionately the first time he’d woken Cas up in the morning to find them still on.)  It looked as if Cas would take up more than his fair share of the bed. 

Dean darted into the bathroom, leaving Sam to his phone.  He shook his head and shot another text.

_They’re sharing.  I might not have to deal with the uncomfortable staring anymore._

_or it’ll just get worse,_ Eileen pointed out.

He hadn’t thought about that.

Just as Sam was in the middle of contemplating whether having his brother and his best friend resolving their UST would be better or worse, Dean came out of the bathroom and gestured him inside.

When Sam reentered the bedroom a few minutes later, it appeared that he’d missed the entertaining part of the evening. Both Dean and Cas had curled up on their respective sides of the bed, not even close to touching.  Sam had the feeling that Dean would have put up a pillow barrier if not for the teasing he would have endured.

“Night, you two,” he said, climbing into bed.

Cas offered a grunt as a reply, and Dean didn’t respond at all—probably in shock.

_You know, I didn’t really think this through._

_you’re an idiot_

 

 

 

 


	3. To the Stars

Warm sunlight fell over Cas’s bed.  He yawned and turned away from it.  That was weird.  An underground bunker typically didn’t have sunlight in the morning.  Too sleepy to bother with trying to figure it out, he tried to get into a better position on his pillow.  Usually he was pretty comfortable—he and Dean had picked it out specifically so he wouldn’t get the knots in his neck that Jimmy Novak had suffered from.

Wait.  Pillows didn’t move.

Cas forced his eyes open to find himself staring at the Metallica logo on Dean’s t-shirt.  At least that explained why his pillow had been moving.  Cas tried extracting himself, but the arm around his waist refused to let go.

He looked towards Sam’s bed for help, but he’d already vacated it.  Cas sighed and decided to stay where he was for now.

Given that he’d been the one angel to hear from God in living memory, the others had offered him a place in Heaven again—a home.  But Cas remembered what they’d done to Hannah, and to Anna before that.  Heaven couldn’t stand _different,_ and that was what he’d unintentionally become.  If Cas was being honest, he’d been different for a long time.

So he hadn’t taken the offer.  He’d gone home to the Winchesters and let his grace drain out.  Dean had taken him up to a national park when he’d lost the last drop and held him through the worst of it.  (He still had a burn on his chest from getting too close.  Being unable to heal it was the worst part of being human.)

No matter how many times Dean said _brother,_ Cas knew this wasn’t how he treated Sam.

Dean blinked blearily down at him.  It took a few seconds for him to process, but Cas could see the precise moment he did.  He opened his mouth—

Sam chose exactly the wrong time to walk through the door with three coffees and a bag.  Both of them scrambled into motion (a rather pointless exercise, considering Sam had woken up before them and had already seen).  Sam, thankfully, chose not to comment.

“I have coffee,” he said, gesturing needlessly at the cups. “And Dean, I brought you a doughnut.”

Cas couldn’t stand eating in the morning but he loved—well, needed—his coffee.  He scrambled out of bed, accidentally kneeing Dean in the stomach, and snatched the coffee out of Sam’s hand.

“We’re doing Epcot today.”

He tossed the pamphlet Cas’s way.

“Why do they call it the most magical place on Earth?” Cas frowned down at the advertisement. “It sounds like an excellent cover for a coven.”

He wouldn’t put something like that past Rowena.  It was surprisingly easy to picture her wearing those mouse ear hats that everyone seemed to love so much.

“This is supposed to be a vacation, Cas.”

Still.  Cas resolved to keep his eye out.

* * *

The best thing Dean had to say about Epcot was that none of the rides required high heights or speeds. 

Cas adored the World Showcase.  Being able to dart from place to place was almost like having wings.  They ate lunch at a fish and chips shop (much to Dean’s disdain) overlooking the water.  Whenever he thought the brothers weren’t looking, Cas fed some of his french fries—Dean refused to call them chips—to an overly brave squirrel.

Sam and his stupid itinerary made them book it all the way across the park to a ride that Sam described only as a simulation.  Cas looked a little wary (Mission: Space had nearly made him sick), but he warmed up to the idea after Sam swore up and down that this one didn’t spin.

“Soaring?” Dean asked doubtfully. “Sam.  Are you _trying_ to kill me?”

“I promise, no heights.  No real ones, anyway.”

Yeah, right.  He’d said the yeti ride was tame.  Dean’s suspicion only grew when they finally made into the theater.  The screen was way too high up and no reasonable seats had belts for no good reason.  Still, he buckled himself in and prepared to white-knuckle his way through it.

Thankfully, when they left the ground, it wasn’t too high that he couldn’t focus on the screen.  Dean had been to California plenty of times over the years, and even though Sam knew the area better than he did, he liked to think he’d seen all there was.

This was something else.

He could still see the ground when he wanted to break the illusion, so for the first time in his life Dean enjoyed flying.  Sam—nerd—seemed more interested in figuring out how it worked than the ride itself, but the real treat was Cas.

He kept his eyes glued to the screen, and he moved with each of the dips and curves as if he were actually controlling the ride.  Dean half expected his hair to be moving in the wind, and as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the fans kicked in.

It wasn’t until Dean could smell oranges that he realized he’d been looking at Cas instead of the screen for the last several minutes.  Clearing his throat, he looked back at the screen in time for them to land.

Cas sat in his seat for a full minute afterwards until one of the smiling employees came by to make sure he hadn’t gotten stuck.  Dean reached over and unbuckled his seat belt for him.

“C’mon, Cas.”

He wasn’t expecting the hug, so it knocked the wind out of him.

“Thank you,” Cas said into his shoulder. “Thank you for everything.”

Dean smiled, glad that for once it hadn’t taken the end of the world to say this.

* * *

They took another lap around the World Showcase.  Sam trailed along a half step behind Dean and Cas, just listening to their conversation.  Cas had scraps of trivia about every area of the world and usually a story to go with each.  They weren’t that funny, but Dean laughed like they were the most hilarious things he’d ever heard.

Sam still had one last card up his sleeve for today—Spaceship Earth.  If a long, dark ride where the occupants had to squish together for fifteen minutes wasn’t enough, Sam didn’t know what was.

_that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard in my life,_ Eileen put in, but Sam ignored that particular text. 

If this morning was any indication, his plan was working perfectly.  Sam had expected to be the first one to wake up in the morning, but he hadn’t expected to find Cas sprawled across Dean’s chest.  It had taken all his self-control to not take a picture.  Instead, he’d been the most mature he’d ever been in his life and had gone to get breakfast.

“All right, we’ve still got about a half hour before the fireworks show, so how about Spaceship Earth?”

Sam led the way to the giant ball in the center of the park, and when they finally got to the carts, he chose one for himself, claiming he needed more leg room.

Okay, Disney.  Time to work that so-called magic.

* * *

Dean didn’t see the point of a long, quiet, dark ride where the cart reclined unless you felt like taking a well-deserved nap.  Still, it was sort of nice after a long day of trekking around the world.

He didn’t know what to expect from the ride, so the animatronic Neanderthals nearly gave him a heart attack.

“I remember when you were like this,” Cas said in his ear. “You were dull before you learned to speak.”

Dean forgot sometimes how old Cas was, how much stuff he’d seen.  Then he’d say something like that and it would become impossible to forget.

He looked over at Cas’s face, shadowy in the half light, as it curved into a smile.

“I’m glad you’re part of a generation that can speak.”

And if that had been anyone else, it would have been the weirdest thing Dean had ever heard in his life, but it was just another day as far as Cas was concerned.

“Me too, Cas.”

The car took a turn.  Cas pointed across Dean at the next scene, cave paintings.

“You’ve always enjoyed stories,” Cas whispered. “And you finally got the chance to keep them past just speaking them aloud.”

The narration playing in the background somehow didn’t feel as important as Cas’s thoughts and musings.

It got hotter.  Dean had the sudden, horrible and totally illogical thought that his blush was heating the area around them, but then he noticed the heating lamps as they entered Egypt.

“Papyrus,” Cas said, a half beat before the recorded woman.

Dean had always like books.  Throughout his childhood and a bit into his teenaged years, he’d devoured every one he could get his hands on.  They hadn’t had the room in the Impala to lug fiction around, so he’d developed a system where he read books he knew would be available in libraries across the country.  He’d worked his way through classics—Ray Bradbury’s short stories, every single Agatha Christie novel, the Lord of the Rings, all of the Jules Verne he could get his hands on.  He read more modern books, too, at least the ones so popular he could find them pretty much everywhere.

(And, ironically, he’d read the Gideon in every motel room so many times out of sheer boredom that he could have easily been mistaken for a preacher’s son instead of a drifter’s.)

Over the years, especially after Sam left, he’d lost any time he might have had to read, and the magic had dimmed.  Listening to Cas telling him how the first people figured out how to take the stories with them, he felt a little of that magic return.

They drifted past the Phoenicians, past the roads that all led to Rome, past the alphabet that Cas claimed under his breath was entirely humanity’s doing, despite several divine claims otherwise.  The fall of Rome loomed in front of them as the library of Alexandria crumbled.

“Was that humanity?” Dean found himself asking. “Or did some god decide we were too big for our britches?”

Cas shook his head. “Humanity is—we are—deeply flawed.  I wish I could tell you that was divine intervention.”

Dean wanted to ask another question, but his heart stuttered.  For the first time, Cas had identified himself as human.  Instead, he stayed quiet as they moved to the next scene.

“He amused me,” Cas noted, pointing out an animatronic Michelangelo painstakingly painting the Sistine Chapel. “Did you know he placed the pope in Hell?”

Dean wanted to point out that anyone who had ever landed in an art history class (or, in Dean’s case, in the same room as a drunk Sam Winchester) knew that, but he shut his mouth at the thought that Cas had probably watched him do it, that same sort of bemused smile on his face as when Dean mixed up their clothing in the laundry and neglected to fix it.

“You never did manage to build a tower to Heaven, but you did manage to go to the stars,” Cas said, gesturing at the video of the moon landing.

Dean’s mom had told him about it once.  She’d been fifteen years old and the only one in her family who had been the least bit interested.  She’d dragged her mother and father to sit in front of the TV to watch.

Even nearly fifty years after the landing, Dean felt a thrill borrowed from his mother as Neil Armstrong took those first few steps.

They emerged into the last part of the ride, where the carts turned around and started to descend, surrounded on all sides by fake stars.

“Wow.”

It felt too quiet to speak loudly, like in the middle of a church service.

Cas smiled at him, big and gummy. “I think this one is my favorite.”

They made it outside in time to catch the fireworks show.  Dean didn’t recognize the soundtrack (something about dreams coming true or whatever).

“They’re louder with human ears,” Cas said.

He flinched at the first few explosions, but then appeared to get used to it.  Dean looked over at Sam with a grin on his face.  His little brother had always loved fireworks, ever since he was a kid.  Sam smiled back, then took his phone out and took a few snapshots.  Dean was completely unsurprised to see him text them to Eileen.  When Sam caught him looking, he shoved it back in his pocket.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Then, slyly, “You should have invited her along.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “So, like a double date?”

Thankfully, Cas seemed too wrapped up in the fireworks to have noticed.

“No!”

Sam shrugged his shoulders in a clear _whatever you say._ Dean was going to kill him, even if that meant going to Futureland jail for the next few decades.

Before he could, he was interrupted: “Dean, look.”

Cas grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him over.  Dean valiantly tried to ignore the fact that they stood pressed together from shoulder to hip.

“The gold ones look like bowties.”

* * *

Luckily for Sam’s life and general wellbeing, Dean didn’t notice the flash of Sam’s camera app.  More out of self-preservation than respect for his brother’s privacy, Sam didn’t send it to Eileen.  He did, however, save it.  Something to put on their wedding reel.

Despite the fact that most people would have drifted apart by now (most _normal_ people, anyway), they stayed exactly where they were.  Sam couldn’t help but think that this was the best thing he’d ever tricked Dean into thinking was his idea.

 

 

 

 


	4. Movie Magic

When Cas had first fallen, he’d completely refused to go anywhere outside of the bunker.  It had reminded Dean so forcefully of the shell that had said yes to Lucifer to prove his usefulness that he hadn’t even pressed the issue.  He’d just settled in for the long haul, hoping that having somebody nearby would be enough to keep Cas from drifting into zombie Netflix mode.

Metatron’s pop culture info dump had assured that Cas knew the plot of pretty much every book, movie and TV show until roughly mid-2014, but that didn’t mean that he’d experienced them.  He understood what Dean meant when he said that they were using a Wookie plan, but he hadn’t dumped popcorn all over the person next to him in his excitement that they’d managed to blow up the Death Star (sorry, Sam).  So, Dean made it his life’s mission to drag him through as much pop culture as possible, whether that meant throwing books at him to read, dragging him into their makeshift living room for an impromptu movie night, or refusing to let him focus on something else until they’d watched just one more episode.

It had been slow going, but grounding Cas in human life via fiction had drawn him out of his shell.  They’d invited Eileen over a few times until he felt comfortable around other people.  Dean hadn’t seen the full effect until he’d seen him and Claire cracking up over a _Harry Potter_ reference while cleaning the dishes at Jody’s the first time Cas had ventured out of the bunker since becoming human.

Hollywood Studios was a favorite of Cas’s before they even arrived, from Sam’s description alone.

Dean had thought that after three solid days of nothing but running around, he’d be exhausted, but honestly?  He hadn’t slept this peacefully in literal years, a fact that he was never going to share with Sam.  Ever.

Cas insisted on being there to open the park (shocking, given his tendency to laze around in the mornings), so there they were, bright and early.

Sam insisted that the Toy Story ride—go figure—had one of the longest lines in any of the parks, so they headed there first.  Dean had no idea how thirty-five minutes’ worth of people had gotten there in front of them, but the line crawled on for precisely thirty-four.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean complained as he and Cas clambered into the front seat of the car.

Sam, who was busy strapping himself into the back, rolled his eyes. “Dean, I loved this movie.  You took me to see it in theaters, remember?”

Dean did remember.  A perpetually sulky, almost-teenaged Sam had just been beginning to clash with Dad.  Dean had dragged him out of whatever crappy dive motel they’d been staying in.  They’d watched the movie and gone out to eat afterwards.  Dad had been furious, but then, he’d spent a lot of his time like that back then.  He hadn’t really gotten used to Sam talking back quite yet.

“Yeah, but couldn’t you drown in your nostalgia somewhere els—whoa!”

The car jerked, much quicker than he’d expected.  Dean looked down at the multicolored blaster in front of him, sighed, and picked it up.  They passed into the first room.  Dean took out his targets methodically, moving from one to the other with what would have been alarming ease to a family trying to enjoy their day.

“It’s not working,” Cas groused, shaking it.

“Here.”

And, before he realized what he was doing, Dean had snaked an arm around him and steadied the plastic.

He hadn’t been the one to teach Cas how to shoot—he remembered teaching Sam, and while it hadn’t been weird to be so close to his little brother, he had had the good sense to avoid the same with Cas.  But now, he was recreating it on purpose.  What was wrong with him?

Had he been able to turn around, Dean was confident that he’d find Sam smirking at them.

Thankfully, after a few demonstrations, Cas seemed to get the idea.  With a quiet sigh of relief, Dean released him. 

It wasn’t until the end of the ride—when he realized that Cas had a higher score than him and Sam combined—that Dean considered that maybe Cas had been able to shoot all along.

* * *

Cas had known how to shoot.

For all his intelligence, Dean could be quite dense at times.  Cas wasn’t stupid.  Dean didn’t behave like this with Sam.  At first, Cas had checked himself, certain that his newfound humanity was affecting him, but after several months, nothing had changed.

Time for drastic measures.

Unlike the other parks that they had been to before, Cas had gotten excited enough at the prospect of something entirely inspired by movies to look it up on Sam’s laptop.  He knew, therefore, that there was one ride that would serve his purposes nicely.

“The Tower of Terror?” Dean scoffed. “Is that their idea of a horror flick?”

Cas and Sam exchanged a look behind Dean’s back.  It was sort of cruel to not correct him, but Cas had been the victim of too many Winchester pranks over the last couple months to feel bad for him.

“I mean,” Dean continued, completely oblivious to their silent communication, “our entire lives have been horror flicks.  What’s the point of going to one?”

“I always saw myself as a more of a traditional heroic epic kind of guy,” Sam said, straight-faced.

Cas inclined his head. “You did fit several of the criteria.”

“Whatever,” Dean said, resigned.  “If there are lame ghost animations, I’m out.”

Sam delicately avoided mentioning that the opening was staged like the Twilight Zone.  Given the nature of his and Sam’s upbringing, Cas was unsurprised to learn that Dean wasn’t exactly a fan.

By the time they got to the middle of the line, the sky darkened above them.  Sam dug in his backpack, and Cas in his, for a poncho.  Dean, who had teased them both for carrying them around for three straight days, prepared for the worst.

“Sucks to be you,” Sam said, in true brotherly fashion, just as the skies opened.

Cas, who had been struggling to unstick his poncho from itself, gave up and just held it above his head.  He looked only marginally less ridiculous than Sam, whose poncho barely brushed the top of his knees.

“I hope that stupid thing dyes your skin blue,” Dean snapped.

Cas realized that the universe had just granted him a golden opportunity.  About time.

“Oh, come on.”

He shuffled over, careful to stop the small but steadily growing pond in his poncho from drenching them both.  It wasn’t a particularly large poncho—it would have been bigger if he’d managed to unfold it all the way—so it was a tight squeeze.  The close quarter forced Dean to look down his nose, cross-eyed, to smile at him.

“See, Sam? There’s someone on this vacation who isn’t a total d—” His eyes fell on a gaggle of nine- or ten-year-old girls gathered around a rather harassed looking woman. “—dork.  Dork.”

Before that thread of conversation could continue — which was a shame because Cas had been looking forward to Sam’s reaction to the insult — an equally harassed looking man a few years younger than Sam sheparded them inside to watch a short film introducing the ride.

Upon seeing the lame ghost animations that he had been talking about, Dean tried to walk out of line, stopped only by Cas’s hand in the back of his shirt.

“The Twilight Zone?  Warn a guy next time, Sammy.”

Cas had a feeling that Dean would be wishing for a warning of a different kind in a few minutes.

“—and then the elevator drops!”

Sam was almost fast enough in throwing himself between his brother and one of the young girls before he caught the tail end of their conversation, but not quite.

“It does _what?_ ” Dean growled.

“If you want to leave when they’re staying…” Sam aid, with a pointed look in the girls’ direction.

“Don’t worry,” Cas said. “When have I ever let you fall?”

He was ready for the typical response (“Cas, dude, what’s that supposed to mean?”) or something like it.  He wasn’t ready to feel Dean’s hand fall into his for a brief squeeze.

“You haven’t yet.”

It was an exchange that, if they’d been watching a movie, would have made Dean roll his eyes and complain that real life people didn’t talk like that.  That thought, more than anything else, tugged the corner of Cas’s mouth into a smile.

He hadn’t smiled much as an angel or even as the halfway creature he’d been for years after meeting the Winchesters and falling for the first time.  He hadn’t ever seen the point.  The matching soft smile on Dean’s face though was reason enough.

He dragged Dean on to the ride, Sam smirking behind them.  Dean eyed the restraints apprehensively but buckled himself in anyway.

“It’s bad enough that I have to hunt real life ghosts,” Dean muttered under his breath.

The ride moved through a series of tunnels with more animated ghosts.  Cas actually liked the fake creepiness.  It was a nice juxtaposition to what he saw on a day to day basis.

And then they were climbing.  Dean squeezed his eyes shut, despite the fact that the doors weren’t even open yet. 

“Tell me when it’s over,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

“I think you’ll know.”

On his other side, Sam grinned as they shot up.  They’d all needed a vacation.  They certainly deserved it.

The cart dropped suddenly, then shot back up, this time with the doors flying wide.

The photo showed Dean clinging like a koala bear to a former angel of the Lord.

Sam bought it.

* * *

As ridiculous as it sounded for a man who had (literally and metaphorically speaking) been to Hell and back, Dean had been looking forward to the Star Wars ride all day.

He had forced Cas through all six of the old movies, plus the newer one.  (He had plans to cosplay at the midnight release of the next one—and to get Cas in Poe Dameron’s jacket.)  It had been one of the first things in his new human life to make him smile.

“Harrison Ford,” Sam teased, elbowing Dean in the chest.

Dean had always spent equal time looking at Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford.  He should have never mentioned that to Sam.

“He _is_ rather attractive,” Cas put in.

For the life of him, Dean couldn’t fathom why he felt a surge of jealousy.  He swallowed it down as they got into line.

Sam pulled out the app on his phone and checked the wait time for the ride.  Dean amused himself by watching other people in line.  A group of teenagers with matching t-shirts that said their school’s name laughed at something one of the girls had said.  Two old ladies took a selfie with one of the droids.

“He always drove me nuts,” Sam commented as they moved into the next room, pointing at C3PO.

That sparked an argument with Cas that lasted all the way up to the sim.  Dean had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair, standing up because of the sweat and sunscreen.  The fact that Cas now had opinions about fictional characters and wasn’t afraid to voice them made him unreasonably proud.

By the time they sat down, Dean felt the need to step in on Cas’s behalf. “No, I get it.  He’s useful plenty of times.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “But his _voice_.”

Before they could continue bickering, the lights dimmed and C3PO came on the speakers.  Sam groaned.

Just like he had during Soaring as well as during Spaceship Earth, Dean was more entertained by watching Cas’s face than by the ride itself.  His face lit up when Finn came on screen.  It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Cas identified with him.  A single pawn on an incomprehensively large board that decided his morals were more important than his orders who freed a prisoner and took off.  Dean could spot a parallel when it dangled directly in front of his nose.

Cas looked over at him about halfway through and caught him staring.  This time, Dean didn’t look away.  They locked eyes for an embarrassingly long time.

Dean finally looked down at his hand to find that Cas had taken it.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning over to whisper it in Dean’s ear.

Then he withdrew, fast enough that Sam, on Dean’s other side, didn’t get the chance to notice.

Dean’s heartrate didn’t slow down until they got outside.

 

 

 


	5. Landings

Sam had one last bullet left in his clip—Magic Kingdom.  He’d been reading reviews online, and they claimed it was one of the best honeymoon destinations in the world.

_but this isn’t a honeymoon,_ Eileen pointed out.

_Their relationship started when Dean stabbed him.  I don’t think the normal rules apply here._

It took her a few minutes to respond: _…right, ok.  as long as you don’t stab me anytime soon, i won’t ask._

Sam stuffed his phone into his pocket and willed his blush away before opening the hotel room door.

Despite Dean’s complaints on the first night, he hadn’t actually gone down to the front desk to ask about another room.  Sam didn’t see any reason to encourage him to do it, so he kept his mouth shut.

As like the last two mornings, Sam came back with breakfast to find them still fast asleep.  This time, he had to physically bite his tongue on all the little spoon jokes he could think of.

“Morning, guys.”

They both blinked at him, still heavy with sleep and unconcerned with their current position.  This was working better than Sam could have ever hoped.

* * *

They had a red-eye flight home, so they wouldn’t be staying another night in the hotel.  Dean found himself mournfully thinking it over as they walked through the gates.  At the risk of thinking something that he would regret, Dean liked waking up next to Cas.  He slept better that way.  (Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but there was something reassuring about being able to roll over in the middle of the night and check to see that Cas was breathing.  He’d spent more late night moments watching the steady rise and fall of his chest than he would ever admit to.)

“I don’t think I like boats much.”

“Dude, that was a _ferry_ ,” Dean began, but upon looking back at Cas’s face, he took in his queasy expression. “Maybe now you understand why I didn’t like the angel zapping everywhere.”

Cas nodded miserably.  Dean grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him towards a bench.  Cas grimaced as they sat down.  Dean tried to ignore Cas leaning heavily on him.

“That knocked you for the loop, huh Cas?”

Another nod. “I suppose.”

Dean didn’t bother pointing out that they would have to get back on the ferry to get back out of the park, or that even the most weak-stomached people usually didn’t get seasick on something as sturdy as a ferry.

“Hey, Sammy, could you go get Cas some ginger ale or something?”

Sam loped off to get the soda.  Hesitantly, Dean reached over and started rubbing Cas’s back

“Why ginger ale?”

Dean shrugged. “Honestly?  Don’t know.  Mom swore by it.”

Cas seemed somewhat reassured by that.  Dean had been using the same remedy on Sam for years (he’d been carsick as a kid, an unfortunate trait when you lived out of a car), so he knew it worked.

It took Sam a long time to return with the soda, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to care.  A year ago, he’d been fighting for his life, trying, always, to save the world.  Now, he was sitting on a bench in freaking Disney World with Cas at his side, whole and unharmed, if human and seasick.

Selfishly, Dean liked it better that way.  Something about Cas aging alongside them made him smile.

“Got it!”

Sam broke the relative peace with a disposable paper cup.

“I told them my friend wasn’t feeling well, and they gave it to me for free!”

With ticket prices as high as they were, Dean figured they had the cash to do that kind of stuff.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Cas took a long sip of the soda and collapsed forward in a coughing fit, clutching his nose.  Dean pulled him back into a seated position, heart racing.

“What’s wrong with it?” Cas asked, wiping at his streaming eyes.

Dean couldn’t understand why Sam burst into laughter.

“It’s carbonated, Cas.  That’s part of what settles your stomach.  Drink slower.”

Dubious, Cas followed the instruction, seeming to enjoy the drink when he wasn’t spluttering all over it.

“What’s on the agenda, Sammy?”

Sam seemed determined to stuff their last day as full as possible.  Dean was never going to let him plan a vacation ever again.  He’d been hunting all his life, and he didn’t think his legs had ever been this sore.

Sam insisted on a ride based on _Pirates of the Caribbean_ (“A ride that _inspired_ the movies,” Sam reminded him for the umpteenth time).  Dean found the entire thing ridiculous and cheesy.  He’d been able to forgive Spaceship Earth the lame animatronics because it had made Cas so happy and because it had made _him_ feel the same warm pride for humanity that had led him to defend it to Chuck.  Here, though, they just looked silly.  Even Cas, who tended to be a bit kinder about things like this, rolled his eyes.

Dean kept catching Sam looking at them funny, as if he expected a dark boat ride to spark something.  Dean was beginning to suspect that his brother had an ulterior motive.

After the weird boat ride, Sam sent them up the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse while he remained on the ground, claiming he needed a glass of water.

“Have you read this book?” Cas asked as they started to climb.

“Part of it in high school.  We were only there for two weeks, though, so I never got to finish it.”

Cas gave him a short summary, courtesy of Metatron’s pop culture dump.

“What I don’t understand is how they managed to build such an intricate water delivery system.”

Dean laughed out loud.  In a book that included humans training and riding ostriches, what Cas found strange was their water filtration.

“Have I told you lately that you’re a weird dude, Cas?”

Cas knocked their shoulders together. “You haven’t lately, but it’s always implied.”

Dean had a crazy, wild moment where he wanted to push Cas up against the fake wood of the tree and kiss him senseless.

Whoa.  Okay, that was new.

Well, not new.  If he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t figure out when he’d started feeling that way.  Was it when he’d picked Cas up after Lucifer, knowing that he was back and okay?  When Cas had said he’d stay as Dean killed everyone around him?  When they’d been standing in a crypt and _something_ undefinable had severed Cas’s connection to Naomi?  Earlier than that?

“Dean?”

Dean realized that he’d been staring for an uncomfortable amount of time, just like Cas used to.

“And now you know how it feels,” he said to save face.

Cas quirked his head to the side like he always did when Dean confused him, like he was a puzzle that Cas couldn’t quite work out, but desperately wanted to.

“Sam is waiting for us.”

And the moment shattered.

* * *

_so, last day.  any luck?_

Sam sighed as he looked down at the text message.  He had thought that they’d be together by now and he could be annoying Eileen with texts about what color tablecloths they should have at the wedding.

_Not so far._

Even from all the way across the country, Sam could imagine the inevitable sigh and eye roll.

Sam stuffed his phone in his pocket.  One last, desperate measure.

“You know what?  You two go on without me.  I think I’m going to sit for a bit.”

They both attempted to get him to stay, even going so far as to sit down with him before Cas got the memo.

“Dean, if he really wants us to go…”

Sam struggled to keep the the smile off his face until they were out of sight.

* * *

“Dean, I don’t want to alarm you, but someone is following us.”

It was a testament to Dean’s hunter instincts and his father’s training that he instantly snapped into high alert despite the distraction of Cas’s face less than two inches away from his.

“Who?”

“The woman and her daughter behind us.”

Dean hustled them around a corner so he could get a better look at their tail.  The mother seemed about as harmless as you could get—a crisp bob falling to her shoulders, the lightest application of makeup, a pair of capris, and a white blouse.  Her daughter looked no more threatening.  Dean’s best guess placed her at six or seven, wearing a princess costume that Dean lied to himself and thought he couldn’t identify.  (It was Ariel.)

“We should double back, get Sa—”

“Excuse me?”

If they ran for it now, she would know they knew she was following them.  Dean forced himself to stop and turn, taking Cas with him.

“Yeah?”

The woman flushed under his gaze, though on second thought, that might have been a side effect of her nasty sunburn.

“I’m so sorry, but Katie has been so insistent—”

The little girl took refuge behind her mother’s legs, peeking out every so often to look at Cas with something akin to admiration.

“She thinks you’re Prince Eric and you’re on your lunch break,” she finished with a sigh.

Dean glanced sideways at him.  He could kinda see it, now that she mentioned it.  Dark hair, decent amount of muscle, blue eyes.  Very blue eyes.  Like—

“Of course I’ll sign it.  No trouble at all.”

Cas got down on one knee and took the signature book from Katie’s hands.  He balanced it on his knee and opened it up.  He looked positively ridiculous—a powerless angel in one of Dean’s old t-shirts, kneeling beside a little girl dressed like a fictional mermaid, holding a fuzzy pen.  Dean’s chest swelled with that something undefinable.

“He’s very sweet,” the woman told him in a low voice. “You’re a lucky guy.”

That took a few seconds to click in Dean’s head.  By the time he’d scraped together enough brain cells to correct her, Cas had already finished his signature with a flourish.

“Here you are.”

It was the same kind of warmth he always showed around Claire, the same kind of gentleness.  Dean’s chest constricted again without his permission.  He’d wondered a hundred times about this.  If they’d met in a bar, or a grocery store, or a class.  Anywhere but Hell.  If they’d had the chance to get to know each other like real people.  Anywhere but one foxhole after another.  If things could have been different.

Watching Katie and her mom walk away, Dean realized something important:  it _could_ be something different if he wanted it bad enough.

“Hey, Cas?”

They’d made it to the walk in front of Cinderella’s castle, which officially made this the cheesiest thing Dean had ever done.

“Yes?”

He looked so sincere, so hopeful that Dean mentally kicked himself for not saying this before, when they could have been happy the entire time.

“When you came to me and told me your grace was burning out, this little part of me was relieved.  Not because it was hurting you—don’t want anything to hurt you ever again—but ‘cause it meant you’d have to stay this time.  I know you thought we only kept you around because you were useful but Cas—”

He broke off because he could feel the same _something_ curling in his throat, and he was equal parts terrified and elated by the prospect of it coming out.

Cas took a step closer and that was _it._

“Watching you get blown apart by Raphael, then Lucifer, walking into that lake, Purgatory, after that Reaper, with Lucifer again…that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, lose you.  And I just—”

He made a useless flapping gesture with his hands, but somehow Cas seemed to understand.  He hooked his hands around Dean’s neck and pulled him that last step closer.

“I love you.”

The corners of Cas’s mouth twitched, the single happy emotion he’d ever displayed as an angel, before it split into the sappy grin that Dean associated with his newfound humanity.

“I know.”

Dean lost it.  He buried his head in the crook of Cas’s neck and let out a few shaky breaths, trying not to cry like the absolute softie he knew he was.

Cas drew back. “I’m not sure if that was clear, but that was meant to be a reference to—”

“I know it was a Star Wars reference, Cas.”

He tugged Cas in with a first in his shirt and kissed him.  Dean had kissed plenty of more experienced people before, but it had never felt like this.  Like something he’d been working towards for years.  Like a long overdue victory.

“I really do love you,” Cas said as they parted, still close enough for his lips to brush Dean’s.

“Got it, Harrison Ford,” he said, a smile widening on his face. “Let’s go tell Sammy the good news.”

Maybe this really was the most magical place on Earth.

* * *

As it turned out, they didn’t need to tell Sam.  Their joined hands and matching goofy smiles were all he needed to know.  He discreetly pulled out his phone and sent a text.

_Mission accomplished._

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was my first big bang, and I'm really excited to get involved next year :)


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